The rising of the host and the three other Barons brought the three-hour welcome banquet to an end. The other Knights drained their cups as well, rising to salute Henry and bid him farewell.
Time slipped by as the moon climbed high into the sky. For the first time, the streets of Westwood Laine were brightly lit.
The nobles' carriages made their way to the tavern, where the most luxurious rooms awaited them.
The tavern's proprietor, a shrewd middle-aged man, personally stood at the entrance to welcome each noble, his face wreathed in an attentive smile.
He was an exiled noble whose grandfather and father had been adept at business. Now, he served under Henry as the tavern's "proprietor"—or rather, its manager.
"Welcome, my esteemed guests," he said, signaling for the attendants to take the horses' reins and guide the carriages to the stables in the side courtyard.
